


Careful

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21761776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto almost has an accident.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	Careful

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He should be running. He’s never going to lose weight if he keeps plodding home from school like a half-dead slug. He knows he’s _capable_ of jogging a good distance, but it just seems so much _harder_ when he’s still in his school uniform and he still has the weight of his backpack thrown over one shoulder. It’s probably more than that. He hasn’t gotten there yet. He’s making up excuses, because he’s still _sad_ , even though he’s had a taste of _hope_ , and he’s _trying_ to be good and achieve all his goals.

Prompto runs that all over in his mind, trying to psyche himself up into picking up the pace, but he’s lumbering around on autopilot. He doesn’t even look where he’s going anymore. He’s walked to and from school alone a hundred times. He can’t even remember the last time one of his parents was around to pick him up. He’s never had a ride. There are kids that seem to get rides every day, and others that at least get rides when it rains. He knows it’s better for both himself and the environment if he just walks, but maybe he’d just like to have somebody waiting for him for once in his lonely existence.

He hears the light turn and starts plodding across the crosswalk, head still down because _what’s even the point of looking up_ , and then something grabs him from behind and he’s yanked backwards so fast he nearly stumbles right over. 

A car speeds past where he was standing. A second longer, and it would’ve hit him. He would’ve been smashed open like a rotting pumpkin. His heart’s suddenly pounding. Wide-eyed, he whips around, spluttering, “I’m so sorry, thank y—”

But he cuts off, dazed, because the tall woman that looms above him is the most amazing being he’s ever seen. Her slick black hair cuts straight across her pale forehead, running smoothly down her back, her robes long and elaborate, glittering like royalty. Her eyes are closed but her smile’s soft—she has a classic beauty, and yet an ethereal aura: Prompto can feel his breath caught in his throat. It takes him a moment to completely get out, “Th... thank you! You saved my life!”

“Of course,” she breathes, her voice deep, laced with an accent he’s never heard before, and it seems to echo inside his head. “You are destined to be very important to someone special.”

Prompto blinks. He stares up at her. He has high hopes, but he still knows that realistically, he’s _nobody_. He doesn’t know why, because she’s just a pretty stranger, but for some reason, he absolutely _believes_ her. 

He bows, dipping down to formally show his appreciation. 

But when he rises up again, she’s gone. 

Prompto starts walking with his head up high, just in case, and every time the mysterious stranger pops up in the background of one of his pictures, he remembers her prophecy.


End file.
